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And my sere laurels for my duty,
Miraculous, at your touch would rise,
Could I give verse one trait of beauty,
Like that which glads me from your eyes.

Unsealed by you, these lips have spoken,

Disused to song for many a day; Ye've tuned a harp whose strings were broken, And warmed a heart of callous clay; So when my fancy next refuses, To twine for you a garland more, Come back again and be my Muses, Jemima, Rose, and Eleanore.

Constable's Edinburgh Magazine.

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY.

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

THE fountains mingle with the river,
And the river with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things, by a law divine,
In one another's being mingle ;-
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another!
No leaf or flower would be forgiven,
If it disdained to kiss its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

THE STORM.

A FRAGMENT.

THE sun went down in beauty; not a cloud
Darkened its radiance,-yet there might be seen
A few fantastic vapours scattered o'er
The face of the blue heavens; some fair and slight
As the pure lawn that shields the maiden's breast,-
Some shone like silver, some did stream afar-
Faint and dispersed like the Pale Horse's mane,
Which Death shall stride hereafter, some were glittering
Like dolphin's scales, touched out with varying hues
Of beautiful light outvying some the rose,
And some the violet, yellow, white, and blue,
Scarlet and purpling red. One small lone ship
Was seen with outstretched sails, keeping its way
In quiet o'er the deep; all nature seemed
Fond of tranquillity; the glassy sea
Scarce rippled the halcyon slept upon the wave;
The winds were all at rest, and in the east
The crescent moon-then seen imperfectly-
Came onwards, with the vesper star, to see
A summer day's decline.

The sun went down in beauty; - but the eyes
Of ancient seamen trembled, when they saw
A small black ominous spot far in the distance :-
It spread, and spread-larger and dark and came
O'ershadowing the skies; the ocean rose;
The gathering waves grew large, and broke in hoarse
And hollow sounds; -the mighty winds awoke,
And screamed and whistled through the cordage ;-birds,
That seemed to have no home, flocked there in terror,
And sat with quivering plumage on the mast.
Flashes were seen, and distant sounds were heard-
Presages of a storm.-

The sun went down in beauty-but the skies

Were wildly changed. It was a dreadful night-
No moon was seen, in all the heavens, to aid
Or cheer the lone and sea-beat mariner :-
Planet nor guiding star broke through the gloom ;-
But the blue light'nings glared along the waters,
As if the Fiend had fired his torch to light
Some wretches to their graves.-The tempest winds
Raving came next, and in deep hollow sounds
Like those the spirits of the dead do use
When they would speak their evil prophecies
Muttered of death to come; then came the thunder,
Deepening and crashing as 'twould rend the world;
Or, as the Deity passed aloft in anger
And spoke to man-despair ! -The ship was tossed
And now stood poised upon the curling billows,
And now midst deep and watery chasms that yawned
As 'twere in hunger-sank. Behind there came
Mountains of moving water, with a rush
And sound of gathering power, that did appal
The heart to look on; - terrible cries were heard;
Sounds of despair, some like a mother's anguish-
Some of intemperate, dark, and dissolute joy-
Music and horrid mirth-but unallied
To joy; and madness might be heard amidst
The pauses of the storm and when the glare
Was strong, rude savage men were seen to dance
In frantic exultation on the deck,

Though all was hopeless. - Hark! the ship has struck,
And the forked light'ning seeks the arsenal!
""Tis fired and mirth and madness are no more!
'Midst columned smoke, deep red, the fragments fly
In fierce confusion splinters and scorched limbs,
And burning masts, and showers of gold, -torn from
The heart that hugged it even till death. Thus doth
Sicilian Etna in her angry moods,

Or Hecla 'mid her wilderness of snows,
Shoot up its burning entrails, with a sound
Louder than e'er the Titans uttered from
Their subterranean caves, when Jove enchained

Them, daring and rebellious. The black skies
Shocked at the' excess of light, returned the sound
In frightful echoes, as if an alarm

Had spread through all the elements: then came
A horrid silence-deep-unnatural-like
The quiet of the grave!-

Literary Gazette.

LINES

ON LEAVING LLANDOGO, A VILLAGE ON THE BANKS OF THE WYE.

SWEET spot! I leave thee with an aching heart,
As down the stream my boat glides smoothly on;

With thee, as if I were a swain, I part,
And thou the maiden that I doated on.

I ne'er shall view yon woody glen again;
That lowly church, calm promiser of rest;
Yon white cots, free from riches and from pain,
Fantastic gems upon the mountain's breast.

Fast, fast, thou'rt fading from my longing sight;
The next bold turn, and thou art gone for aye,-
A dream's bright remnant on a summer night-
The faint remembrance of a love gone by.

Farewell! and if Fate's distant unknown page
Doom me to wreck on Passion's angry sea,
I'll leave Philosophy to reasoning age,

And charm the tempest with a thought on thee.

Etonian.

K

STANZAS

WRITTEN ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTH-DAY OF ROBERT BURNS.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ.

WHAT bird in beauty, flight, or song,
Can with the Bard compare,

Who sang as sweet, and soared as strong,
As ever child of air!

His plume, his note, his form, could BURNS,
For whim or pleasure; change!

He was not one, but all, by turns,-
With transmigration strange!-

The Blackbird, oracle of Spring,
When flowed his moral lay ;-
The Swallow, wheeling on the wing,
Capriciously at play ;-

The Humming bird, from bloom to bloom,
Inhaling heavenly balm; -

The Raven in the tempest's gloom ;-
The Halcyon, in the calm;

In 'auld Kirk Alloway, the Owl,
At witching time of night ;-
By 'bonnie Doon,' the earliest fowl,
That caroled to the light.

He was the Wren amidst the grove,
When in his homely vein ;
At Bannockburn, the Bird of Jove,
With thunder in his train ;-

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